Un-Tying the Knot {h.s.}

Chapter 58*

       

Harry can't believe this is happening to him right now. Never in his wildest dreams would he have imagined.

Well...not lately anyway.

When he woke up this morning, his back killing him from his fifth night in a row in the death trap of a guest bed with the pounding of hammers striking in beat with the pounding in his head, he thought surely his day was doomed from the start.

Operation Redecorate is in full swing -- six or so construction workers starting at six a.m. for the past two days, and this morning was no different, waking up to three decorators standing outside his door talking about sand-colored paint as opposed to taupe. He had just ignored them on his route to his and Eleanor's room, more so Eleanor's than his these days, but all his clothes were still in the closet. Ignoring everything was the only thing really left in his power to do as he tried to figure out his next step.

Not even a week ago, he had made an appearance at Olivia's apartment after his tortuous bridal dinner with Eleanor. He had broken down, took her to bed, and cuddled the shit out of her -- where he vowed to himself and to her that he was going to figure this out, that he needed to because he needed her. And he was working on that. He still hadn't told her what brought him there that night, nor did he intend to until he was ready. But it was the first step in him changing his life -- the first step of which started with him completely ceasing sleeping in the same bed as his 'as-of-today' fiance. Not that they did anything spectacular in it when he did "share" it with her. They certainly hadn't slept together.

After he showered and dressed this morning, he looked at himself in the mirror and realized that for the third day in a row, he'd neglected to shave, the stubble on his cheeks coming in prominently -- but couldn't be compelled to care.

He and Eleanor had their first fight of the day over breakfast, which was quickly becoming part of their new morning routine, and he'd trudged off to work, where messages and meetings and boredom awaited him. And on top of all that, he hadn't seen or spoken to Olivia all week, not since he left her apartment Sunday morning after having cooked her breakfast in bed and giving her sweet morning kisses to apologize for him being a jealous asshole to her friend. The lack of communication from her all week had him beginning to wonder what he could have possibly done wrong this time.

So imagine his utter and complete surprise at this spectacular turn of events.

"What...what are you doing?" he questions, even though he doesn't really care all that much as my hands finish undoing his belt. I flick open the button of his trousers, easing the zipper down slowly.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" I ask innocently as my hand reaches inside to grip him through his boxers, fingernails tickling him slightly as I begin to guide him through the slit.

If he would have known that admitting total and utter defeat would have me on my knees behind his desk, he would have went on a whiney bitch lament a long time ago. One minute he's sitting there saying how his life is just totally fucked and there's no possible way it can get any worse, and the next...

"You're really gonna..."

He can't even finish his sentence, watching in utter disbelief as my lips close around the head of his cock, and he thinks no more. It's short, almost embarrassingly so, and he feels bad that he doesn't warn me, hearing the slight gurgle in my throat when he comes -- but I don't pull back, doing my best to swallow, and he thanks God for me in that moment. When I finally do pull back, I look up at him, slightly out of breath with a sort of amused smile before wiping my mouth as casually as possible with the back of my hand.